Embers
by Miss Peg
Summary: Rigsby gets a phone call in the middle of the night from Van Pelt. One-shot. Contains small spoilers from mid-season five episodes.


Title: Embers  
Author: Miss Peg  
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist, or most people would be sick of Rigsby and Van Pelt being in every scene. ;)  
Notes: This is a gift for vanrigsby's birthday and is also for the monthly challenge on Paint It Red (prompts include Hinder – Lips of an Angel, and Bo Bruce – Save Me).

The shrill sound of his cell phone pulled Wayne Rigsby out of his dreams. He'd been running around a crisp green garden after his son; though the little boy was barely a year old in reality, he was closer to three or four in the world in his mind. When he reached for his phone he pressed the call button and rested it against his ear without even opening his eyes. The only people who ever called in the middle of the night were from the CBI or DAs office. But the voice on the other end of the phone wavered as great gulps of tears passed through the speaker.

'Wayne.'

He slipped his legs out from under the covers, his eyes falling upon the blonde woman awaking beside him. She rested a hand on his shoulder, caressing his bare skin, until he shrugged her off.

'Oh, hey Boss,' he replied despite the fact that Grace Van Pelt was sobbing at the other end of the phone.

He pulled the comforter away and nodded to the woman as he sought privacy in his living room. Rigsby didn't know why he'd lied, though telling the truth would have opened a whole can of worms he wasn't quite ready to acknowledge.

'Is someone with you?' Grace whispered, her voice breaking as more tears seemed to fall.

'Sort of,' he said, closing the bedroom door behind him. 'I met a girl.'

Silence. It took a moment for Van Pelt to speak again, the pain that hovered on the surface of her tears moments earlier disappearing behind a frosty wall. 'Oh, sorry, I'll go.'

'No, don't,' he almost shouted down the phone before he stopped himself from being too loud. It didn't matter if Melissa thought he was being called by work, but by the woman he once expected he would one day marry? They had only been on one date and it was a great evening, followed by an even better night. Whether the budding relationship went anywhere, it didn't matter too much. But he didn't want to rock the boat early with his insurmountable baggage. It was hard enough knowing that he had to tell her about his son, something which she seemed to take well.

Van Pelt stayed silent, her laboured breath travelling down the phone line as a number of quiet sobs continued to pass from her lips. His heart melted into the fiery pits of regret at being honest with her, she sounded aggrieved enough. Despite the fact that they'd both moved on, it was one thing to know of the possibility and another to witness it occurring. When she'd become engaged, it had broken him in two. After he'd informed her of his relationship with Sarah Harrigan, Van Pelt had had that same look in her eyes that he'd had over her fiancé. Whether history was between their failed relationship or not, moving on when they spent so much time in each other's pockets was never going to truly happen.

'What's wrong? You sound upset.'

'I, I need you,' she said, her fragile voice failing to find any strength.

He pulled on a pair of joggers and a jacket from the laundry basket as he searched the kitchen counters for his keys. 'Where are you?'

Rigsby closed the apartment door behind him and ran down the stairs to the parking garage. The early morning brought a gentle breeze that made him regret not dressing properly. The only thing that mattered in that moment was Van Pelt. He drove through the streets of Sacramento towards the river; barely noticing as he ran a couple of stop signs.

The apartment block that Van Pelt lived in sat on the edge of the Sacramento River. When Rigsby arrived a number of fire engines were parked out front. He searched the small crowd of residents and emergency workers for her auburn hair. When he spotted her, he paused momentarily. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her looking so small, so shattered. Her relationship with Craig O'Laughlin had ended badly, but he didn't get to see her in that state of initial shock. Memories of the breakdown of their own relationship sprang to mind and he felt the familiar pang of guilt and anger. He couldn't bear the thought of her feeling that way again and yet, there she was looking just as broken.

'Grace,' he shouted and she turned at the sound of his voice. They stared at each other for the briefest of moments before she fell into his open arms.

'I didn't know who else to call,' she said, tears landing on his shoulder as he held her close.

'It's okay,' he whispered. 'I'm here.'

After a brief conversation with a police officer and member of the fire crew, Rigsby guided Van Pelt towards his car. He held her close, his arms resting on her lower back and his hand hooked protectively around her waist. He helped her into the front seat, her thin nightdress doing little to protect her from the early morning temperatures. Rigsby searched his trunk and found a blanket which he handed to her before climbing into the driver's seat. The blanket rested on Van Pelt's lap as she stared out of the front windscreen, her eyes glazing over.

'Come here,' said Rigsby, opening the blanket and wrapping it around Van Pelt's shoulders. She sunk into the warm material and his comforting embrace; her tears flowing more freely.

'Thank you,' she said, her eyes still covered in a watery layer.

Finally, he put the vehicle into drive and sped off through the street of the city. Back at his apartment Rigsby realised the mistake he'd made when he left abruptly. The woman perched unhappily on his couch with little more than a sheet to cover her modesty.

'Melissa,' he said, his arm falling from Van Pelt's shoulder. 'I'm so sorry, I had to go out.'

'You could have told me,' she replied, her eyes travelling from Van Pelt's bare, blackened feet to her tousled hair.

Rigsby pushed all feeling out of his mind and picked up a blouse that Melissa had abandoned on the way to his bedroom hours earlier. 'I need you to leave.'

'You need me to leave?' she asked, staring at him mortified. 'What is this? Sleep with one girl then bring another one home in the middle of the night so you can brag to your friends?'

The reaction was only natural but Rigsby barely knew the woman and he didn't much care for what she thought of the situation. If that meant his attempt at dating failed miserably, then so be it. Beside him, Van Pelt's shoulders were hunched as she stared down at the laminate flooring. If he didn't know any better he might have guessed she was laughing at the stupidity of the situation. He shouldn't have to explain himself to someone he barely knew when he was trying to help out a friend. Except that she wasn't just a friend, whether she knew it or not. And Melissa did deserve some explanation for his behaviour.

'This is Grace,' he said, motioning towards her. 'We work together, her home just burned down.'

Melissa's tight expression softened as she slipped her blouse back on. Her eyes travelling warily from Van Pelt to Rigsby. 'I'll get dressed in the bathroom and go.'

Without Melissa staring at them, Rigsby turned back to Van Pelt and slipped an arm around her waist. He kissed her forehead and felt sorrow at the scent of smoke lingering in her hair. Her apartment, along with several others, had been gutted. She'd barely been able to get out before the fire raged through the building, but she did; something which he was thoroughly thankful for. The alternative was too difficult to even consider. Rigsby glanced upwards and prayed to a God that he wasn't sure he believed in.

'Goodbye, Wayne,' Melissa said as she lifted her purse onto her shoulder, pressed her lips to his cheek and opened the door.

'I'll call you,' he replied, though he knew he probably wouldn't and imagined she wouldn't expect him to either.

The door closed behind her and the apartment suddenly felt painfully silent. Van Pelt pulled out of his embrace and forged a smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. She reached up and stroked his cheek, a lump settled uncomfortably at the back of his throat.

'I'm sorry for ruining your night.'

'You could never ruin anything,' he said, cupping her cheeks and holding her first real smile of the night. 'I'll go and change the sheets, you can sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch.'

As he moved away, Van Pelt caught his wrist and pulled him back. He stared into her eyes, watching the painful hours dance across her pupils. Under any other circumstance he might have kissed her, pulled her into his arms and whispered how much he cared. She made him feel braver than he'd ever felt in all his years as a law enforcement officer.

'I don't want to put you out,' she said, her finger rubbing against his wrist. 'It's not like we've never slept in the same bed.'

'But,' said Rigsby, his voice growing painfully quiet.

'I need you, Wayne.'

And like that, with the waver of her teary voice, he was caught up in a battle between what felt right and what was right. She needed him and as a friend, he ought to oblige. But as someone who wished to love her like they were the only two people on the planet, he couldn't help but see the things he wished were real.

'I shouldn't,' he whispered, but she stood closer to him now and he couldn't find the words to say an outright no.

'Please,' she replied, pulling his fingers into her hand and lacing them with her own. He stared down at the collision of skin which sent waves of love through his veins. If love could live, it was doing just that in every inch of his body.

He nodded his head briefly and allowed her to lead him into his bedroom, something she'd done time and time again all those years before. The constant, painful reminder that they were just friends beat its way through his chest. He knew that they would only sleep, even if he wished for something more. He dropped his joggers and jacket on the floor before slipping back under the covers. Van Pelt's hand moved across his chest and for a moment Rigsby could feel intense emotion, until she settled against his side, her arm hooked around his waist. He listened and felt the gentle movement of her every breath, forgetting to let out his own until his chest constricted painfully. All she needed in that moment was the comfort of his body against hers and though he knew he may regret his actions come morning he knew that what she needed came before anything else.


End file.
